


Un Beso Entre Hermanos

by AnotherHomosexualMale



Category: On My Block (TV)
Genre: Angst, Brother/Brother Incest, Consensual Underage Sex, First Kiss, Frottage, Hurt/Comfort, Incest, Jealousy, Kissing, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Pining, Possessive Behavior, Protective Siblings, Sexual Tension, Sibling Bonding, Sibling Incest, Sibling Love, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:07:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26394628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherHomosexualMale/pseuds/AnotherHomosexualMale
Summary: Cesar asks Oscar to teach him how to kiss. Then, the kiss changes everything.
Relationships: Cesar Diaz/Oscar "Spooky" Diaz
Kudos: 29





	1. It Started Out With A Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> Many of the things in this story do not follow the direct storyline of the show.

* * *

When you ignore his aggressive behavior, Oscar is a good big brother. Okay? A protective one. Let’s just make that clear.

So, of course, when his little brother waddles up to him at the age of two and grabs Oscar’s face between his pudgy hands demanding “kissies”, Oscar’s gonna indulge him (with a roll of his eyes and a big sigh, but indulge him nonetheless). Oscar is 8 at the time, so it’s not that weird just yet to cover your kid brother in a smattering of big, wet kisses all over his soft, soft face, because if it makes Cesar giggle and squeal with happiness then who is Oscar to say no?

And when Cesar is four, and his Power Rangers nightlight breaks in his room at their old house, and he climbs into Oscar’s bed with his small, cold feet on Oscar’s warm legs, Oscar lets him. When Cesar asks for kisses then too, Oscar rolls over and peppers Cesar’s cheeks with his mouth before settling in and telling him a bedtime story, making up the words as he goes.

Oscar is still a good big brother when he pushes Cesar’s six year old mouth away from his cheek in the cheap donut shop they’re at for breakfast. Dad’s in the bathroom and Oscar has just given Cesar the rest of his milkshake because Cesar drank his too fast and was pouting at Oscar’s so pathetically, that he shoved it into Cesar’s hands. Grinning, Cesar leaned over and planted his mouth on Oscar’s cheek. and here they are now, Oscar nudging Cesar away with a scowl as he rubs his sleeve over his face. Oscar is just looking out for his _hermanito_ , okay?

Cesar is growing up, and he needs to know it’s weird for him to go around kissing his brother as if it was normal. The confused twist of Cesar’s mouth and his furrowed brow make Oscar’s heart sink, so Oscar lunges forward to tickle Cesar’s ribs until he’s laughing, the hurt disappearing from his face as he tosses his head back and knees the table so hard that the milkshake falls over, but does it matter if Cesar is smiling all shy and knocking his ankle against Oscar’s under the table?

The softest place in Oscar’s heart is reserved for his little _mano_. That’s never been a question. Oscar’s never been good with words, never claimed to be, so he’s not gonna go all waxing poetic shit about how important Cesar is to him and how he’d do anything to protect his brother because that’s already outlined in Oscar’s job description.

Loving Cesar (not that Oscar will ever let that four letter word fall from his mouth, not even on his deathbed if he can help it) is more like something that has been ingrained in Oscar’s bones ever since their mother settled that bundle of blankets in the crib for the first time. Peering through the wooden bars, Oscar caught the first glimpse of those wide brown eyes and he was done, a slow burning heat spreading through his body as the deep connection between the two brothers settled into the very fibers of his being. Even then, Oscar knew that the rest of his life was going to revolve around protecting his little brother from the dangerous people with knives and guns out there.

Cesar comes first. Even when the Santos say otherwise. So yeah, Oscar sometimes skipped a meal or two so that Cesar would have enough food to take to school for lunch, and he, not their father, was the one who protected Cesar, because Cesar is innocence manifested into human form, and so, what if Oscar decided to shoplift clothes from time to time with his friends since their deadbeat father didn’t make enough money because Cesar could only go out in public so many times in a shirt that has more holes than a block of Swiss cheese?

The point of this, is that Oscar is a good brother and, yes, he seriously fucked up that one night two months ago, but that doesn’t change it from being a fact.

But God, does Oscar wish he had said ‘no’ that night... He wishes it more than anything in the fucking world.


	2. How Did It End Up Like This?

**Freeridge, Los Angeles – Two months ago**

Oscar’s at the front lane when his phone starts to ring. Tucking the greasy socket wrench into the front pouch of his coveralls as he wipes his hand on his once white wifebeater, Oscar digs around in his back pocket until he can pull out his cell phone.

“Cesar?” Oscar answers, knowing without checking the caller ID that it’s his little brother who should be in school right now, the little shit, he better not be skipping, or Oscar’s gonna kick his ass.

Cesar starts rambling, tripping over his words like he used to trip on his feet when he was still thirteen, so Oscar sighs. Squishing the phone between his shoulder and his head, Oscar covers his other ear and moves out to the front sidewalk, away from the music and loud voices of the other members of the gang.

“ _Me lleva la chingada verga_... Slow down. Are you okay? Why aren’t you in class?”

“Oscar, listen to me!”

“I am listening. What the fuck happened?”

Oscar can practically hear Cesar’s eyes rolling through the phone as he responds, “No, Oscar, I’m fine. God, you’re paranoid.”

“So then why the fuck are you bothering me when I’m busy?”

“I have a date!” The words come so fast that Oscar has to squint up at the blue sky above his head and focus on a drifting cloud to take the time to sort out his brother’s rushed syllables into intelligible words.

“Congratulations. You have officially become a man. We’ll bring you some hookers tonight when you get home.”

“Don’t be a dick.”

Oscar’s lips twitch up at the corners as the sun becomes shielded by the cloud he was eyeing, knowing the exact face Cesar is pulling from how he’s putting inflection on his words.

“And,” Cesar adds, just because he’s Cesar and he fucking has to. “I actually like girls that happen to be my own age, unlike you.”

“You always were a repressed kid. No shame in that.” Oscar says easily, taking the phone into his hand so he can roll his head around his shoulders, loosening the muscles in his neck. “Who’s the lucky lady?”

Oscar hears Cesar clearing his throat, the sound tinny as it comes through the other end of the phone. “You know… You know my friend Monse, right? We’re in the same Calculus class.”

“She sounds hot.”

“Oscar.”

Oscar blusters out a sigh, his lips flapping obnoxiously with his exhale. “Look, _mano_ , this is fucking great and all, but some of us have a job to do here. And some of us have school.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay, I’m going.” Cesar grouches, his voice starting to fade as he pulls the phone away from his ear to end the call.

“Hey. _Mano_.” Oscar says quickly, his hand tightening on the piece of plastic between his fingers.

“What?” Cesar sounds irritated, like he regrets calling Oscar at all. The thought makes Oscar’s stomach turn because, no, Cesar can’t have a frown on his face right now, not because of Oscar being the stupid older brother when he was the first person Cesar wanted to call with his news.

“’M happy for you, _manito_ , really. Tell me more about this girl when you get home, okay?” Oscar grunts because it’s not like he can come across as being sappy or anything. He scuffs his boot on the small rocks littering the sidewalk as he waits for Cesar’s response.

Six heartbeats later, Cesar agrees, and Oscar’s stomach settles again in his belly.

“Go back to class, little shit.”

“See you soon. Don’t work too hard.” Cesar’s voice lilts at the end with his jab, the smirk evident in his tone. Before Oscar can bitch out anything else, the line is dead. Scowling, Oscar pulls the phone from his ear and ends the call, the cheap plastic warm in his palm. That little shit.

Oscar shoves the phone into his back pocket and strides back into finishing up the old car he’s been working on for the past two days. By the time 3:30 rolls around, Oscar has done all he can on the machine.

Oscar rubs his dirty hands over his also very dirty jeans, and pats the trunk of the car before opening it. He slides into the front seat. Almost smiling, the Santos leader shuts the door behind him, puts the window down and turns the engine over before pulling out of the lot to make his way to the school.

As Oscar slows down and swings into the cul-de-sac that circles in front of the school doors, he is able to spot his little brother just off to the side of the main stairs, standing with two girls and two guys. He recognizes one of them. The shorter one, he’s Mario’s little brother. Putting the car in park, Oscar grabs the lip of the roof with both hands and heaves himself up and out of his open window, planting his butt where the glass would usually be.

“Hey!” he barks. He smiles inside when he watches Cesar’s head turn slowest of all, the ultimate bitch face darkening his brother’s expression. Oscar waves his pointer finger between the two girls standing in front of Cesar and his friends. “Which one of you is _Monse_?”

Cesar’s face melts into a look of absolute horror. From the blush that paints the pretty black girl in front of Cesar, Oscar gathers that that’s Monse. Oscar scoffs keeping a straight face before laying both palms on the roof of his car. Cesar is there in record time, leaning over the roof of the passenger side of the car with a bright red face.

“Hey.”

“Are you kidding me, Oscar?” Cesar hisses, his eyes darting left and right as most of the students continue to watch the spectacle.

“What?” Oscar feigns innocence, raising an eyebrow. “I can’t find out which girl my brother is taking out for a night on the town?”

“You know what you did, you asshole,” Cesar glowers at him vehemently.

Oscar is just opening his mouth to growl something else to tease Cesar when the girl he is ninety eight point three percent sure is Monse walks over and stands next to Cesar, her eyes meeting Oscar’s easily. Raising his eyebrows, Oscar tilts his head and looks at her. Cesar looks at her too, but his face is edging more on the side of mortification than anything else.

“You seem to know my name, but you haven’t told me yours,” Monse says defiantly, crossing her arms and laying them on top of the roof next to Cesar, her dark brown eyes flashing in the sunlight. “Maybe Cesar can formally introduce us this time?”

Oscar pats the roof of the car and looks expectantly at his little brother, who is rubbing a hand over his face.

“Yeah, _mano_. Formally introduce us.”

Cesar throws Oscar an especially embarrassed glare and sighs, waving a hand in the air between Oscar and Monse.

“Monse, this is my older brother, Oscar. Oscar, this is Monse.”

“Hi,” Oscar says, keeping a neutral face, and not even bothering to look at the girl directly. Cesar looks like he is going to puke on Oscar’s car.

“Hi, Oscar. It’s nice to meet you,” Monse replies. There’s a hint of a blush in her cheeks, but it isn’t as bright as it was when Oscar had first began his act of embarrassing Cesar to high heaven. Her eyes don’t linger on Oscar any longer than usual, either, facing Cesar to ask him something in a low tone. Huh. Cesar managed to find the one girl in town that Oscar couldn’t charm the pants off of. Either that, or she is just that into Cesar.

“Alright, bro, I’m leaving for the house in 3 seconds, whether you’re in the car or not,” Oscar announces with a bored tone.

“I’ll see you, ok?” Cesar interrupts with a roll of his eyes, looking at Monse. He lifts his hand and brushes it down the girl´s arm, offering her a shy and apologetic smile. “Tonight?”

“Tonight.” Monse says with a smile. “Bye, Cesar. Bye, Oscar.”

Cesar clambers into the passenger side, tucking in all of his long limbs and whatnot. He waits until Oscar has put the car into gear and is pulling out of the cul-de-sac before he starts railing on Oscar about how embarrassing he is and what his friends are gonna think.

Oscar zones out during the second half of Cesar’s monologue and once he turns onto the road that leads to their house, Oscar cranks the volume up so a Cumbia song is pounding mercilessly into their eardrums.

“Are you even gonna… Apologize, or something?” Cesar asks all exasperated when Oscar pulls gingerly in front of the house.

Oscar yanks the keys out of the ignition and turns to Cesar with eyebrows raised high.

“Apologize? For what? I don’t know why you’re being a little _puto_ at me. Thanking me is what you should be doing, you little shit.” Oscar points the car key at Cesar with his final sentence to punctuate his point before opening the door and sliding out. He can hear Cesar’s scoff of disbelief before he gets out too, making his way around the car to walk up the steps, trying to ignore the other people drinking beer and laughing in front of the house.

“I need to take a shower.” Oscar calls, already stripping off his clothes and letting them trail behind him like breadcrumbs.

“Fine by me. You reek.” Cesar mumbles, looking at his phone.

Oscar turns around in the doorway of the bathroom to flip Cesar the finger.

“Shut the fuck up and start doing your homework,” Oscar says pointedly, closing the door before Cesar can start his bitching.

The shower is heaven on his muscles. Oscar scrubs the dirt and grime from underneath his fingernails and off his arms and chest covered in tattoos, watching the murky water splash down at his feet before swirling away down the drain. After massaging shampoo into his scalp for a few seconds, he rinses off and steps out of the shower. Then, he wraps the soft cotton around his waist and knots it on his hip so it doesn’t fall open. Not that Cesar or the rest of the Santos haven’t seen him strut around in the nude before, but Cesar is making dinner for both of them tonight, and Oscar doesn’t want him to spit in his sandwich or anything.

Oscar meanders into the bedroom, pawing through his dresser to pull out clean briefs and an old grey shirt to change into. It’s too hot to wear trackpants and Cesar can handle a little bit of underwear. Tossing the towel over the top of the door to dry, Oscar pauses in the doorway, scratching at his stomach through the worn cotton shirt as he looks between the two beds in that room. Since some of the Santos are staying at that house, Cesar sleeps in the one nearest to the window and Oscar in the one closest to the door.

Oscar can’t help but wonder if it’s weird, somehow, for the two of them to actively choose to sleep in the same room next to each other instead of one taking the couch in the living room, or even the floor. Oscar tries to imagine the other gang members and how they would act in the same situation with their siblings. Frowning, Oscar shakes his head at himself.

Oscar turns and pads into the kitchen where Cesar is making a few ham sandwiches with the scarce ingredients he had managed to find in the small fridge.

“There’s a beer for you on the table,” Cesar says over his shoulder.

“Don’t you want one too? It will help with the nerves.”

“I--…” Cesar stutters for a moment. His brother is very strict in the matter of drinking alcohol, or even smoking pot. He knows that living in a neighborhood like the one they’ve lived their entire lives is something that made Oscar over-protective, and he almost never complains, seeing how many kids tend to overdose every year at his school.

“C’mon, just one. Beer ain’t shit though, but it might help you loosen up a bit.”

“Ok.” Cesar answers, grabbing one beer for him too. He stays quiet, the laughs and the music coming from the Santos chilling outside becomes more evident.

Oscar grabs the beers and twists the caps off, tossing the bottle for his brother onto the counter before leaning on it to watch Cesar work.

Puberty definitely worked in the kid’s favor, that’s for sure. Cesar is taller, handsome as fuck, with defined muscles and a manliness that goes from his own Mexican genes to his pretty, but still _macho_ looks. The women in the Santos’ gang would stare at the boy, hungry like bitches in heat, showing off their tits and making a few sexually inappropriate comments at him, but with Oscar always keeping them in line, none of them had dared to make a move.

And yet, he’s not gonna start on the glimpses he’s caught himself of Cesar’s stomach because, while a six pack has definitely begun to etch itself into his core, Oscar still likes to tease his little brother by pinching hard at his tummy.

“What’s wrong?”

So, Cesar had noticed his stares.

“I’m trying to figure out what that girl could possibly see in my brother besides you being an annoying little shit. Is she into that? Half-men who behave like annoying shits?”

Cesar shakes his head, two blotchy red spots growing on his cheeks as he shoves the sandwiches onto a single plate for Oscar before serving some fried chips from the bag in the space next to them.

“You’re such a dick sometimes, Oscar.”

“And this is news to you?” Oscar growls as he hops up onto one of the island stools. Cesar let the plate fall in front of him with a clatter and Oscar digs in.

Cesar’s nose wrinkles and he gives Oscar a scathing look as Oscar shovels the sandwich into his mouth.

“Don’t be… Don’t be so gross...”

“Shut up and go get ready for your date,” Oscar mumbles around his food without even looking up at him. He’s not sure if Cesar even understood him but his brother must have deciphered his message because Cesar’s off to the bathroom to take his own shower. Oscar finishes his meal and his beer in a matter of minutes, smacking his lips contentedly as he sits back and pats his stomach, noticing that Cesar had taken his own beer with him. Sliding off the chair, he gathers the dirty dishes and dumps a huge gob of dish soap into the sink before letting it fill with hot water.

“Jesus, did you use half the bottle?” Cesar peers over his shoulder with a condescending look, the soft smell of Cesar’s spearmint shampoo tickling his nose.

“What? You can never have too much soap.” Oscar scowls, scrubbing the cloth against the dish.

“Actually, yes. You can...”

“ _Puta madre_ , you’re a fucking annoying shit today,” Oscar snaps, rinsing the pot out three times to get rid of all the soapy bubbles. “Quit nagging about my fucking cleaning habits and start telling me about that girl like you said you would.”

Oscar hears one of the chairs pull back. Cesar starts off a little wobbly as he talks about how smart she is, and how she can hold a conversation with him without referencing any lame pop culture or checking her makeup in a compact mirror. The more Cesar talks about her, the more he trips up, catching himself stumbling over his words when he describes her. Oscar smiles inside as he drains the sink. The kid’s practically in love.

“She sounds fine, _mano_ ,” Oscar concedes, turning around as he wipes his hands and arms off with the kitchen towel. Cesar is tapping his fingers nervously on the top of the island, his eyes flicking around the kitchen instead of meeting Oscar’s stare. “You ok?”

“Yeah, I guess…”

Oscar tosses the towel onto the counter and throws his hands up into the air in defeat. “I’m going to take a nap. Wake me when you’re ready to go.” Oscar lets himself fall over the back of the couch and roll onto the cushions below, closing his eyes as he stretches his whole body out in all directions.

“Uh-“ Panic is evident in Cesar’s voice and suddenly he’s at the foot of the couch, hands clasping and unclasping in front of his stomach. “No, that’s okay, Oscar, I’m just gonna walk there, she lives around the corner...”

Oscar cracks an eye open and peers over at his brother.

“What’s your issue? You gonna walk down that road to meet a girl for your first date? No way.” Oscar drops his head back down and closes his eyes once more. “I’ll take you. Go change.”

Oscar can feel Cesar’s presence at his feet, hovering.

“I’m not gonna embarrass you and go inside with you. I’m just dropping you off. Chill the fuck out.” Oscar grumbles, turning over to face the back of the couch, sleep starting to smudge at the edge of his consciousness.

Cesar goes off to their bedroom with a resigned and very pointed sigh, leaving Oscar alone enough for him to doze for a good hour or so. That’s when Cesar flies into the living room in a flurry, shaking Oscar’s arm and rambling about how everything is chaos before darting back into their room. Rolling off the couch, Oscar stretches and takes a breath to steel himself for the task of panicked-baby-brother damage control.

Their room has exploded with articles of denim and cotton. Cesar is currently between the two beds, knee-deep in a mountain of jeans.

“Should I wear shorts?” Cesar starts babbling, scrubbing his hand through his hair as he turns on the spot to look between a crumpled ball of cargo shorts and the denim that is brushing his calves. “Would that look stupid? It’s warm out but it’s gonna get cooler at night, right? And what about shirts? How many black shirts do you own?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Oscar holds his hands up and raises his eyebrows at his little brother, noticing the three empty bottles of beer on the floor. “Did you just fucking drink _three_ beers?! I told you that one was enough, _pendejo!_ ” He started raising his voice, moving towards his brother with real anger showing on his face.

“You said that beer ain’t really shit! And I was getting more and more nervous, and nothing happened with the first one, so I drank a little bit more! I’m sorry…” Cesar tried to apologize, lowering his gaze.

“BEER IS NO FUCKING APPLE JUICE, AND YOU FUCKING KNOW THAT!”

“I know that, and I don’t care right now!” Cesar flails his arms around and Oscar can’t help but picture him as an octopus... An octopus that seems to be on the early stages of being drunk “I care about what I’m gonna do! Tonight! In one hour!”

“Calm the fuck down!” Oscar yells back, picking his way through the disaster of clothes littering the floor. God, he can’t even see the fucking carpet. “Just sit on the fucking bed, we’re not done with the beer talk… I’m gonna pick something for you.”

Cesar does as he is told, flustered and bright red and definitely a little bit drunk, totally giving Oscar his best puppy-dog eyes as he waits for his big brother to hand him a miracle... After all, the effect of three beers wouldn’t last too long, even for a kid who had never been drunk in his life.

Within a few minutes, Oscar has managed to pull out a pair of dark blue jeans, a black shirt of Oscar’s that is too tight across his chest which means it’ll definitely fit Cesar, and a light grey collared button down that is only a little bit wrinkled.

“Here,” Oscar says, tossing the clothes into Cesar’s face. “Put those on. Leave the grey shirt unbuttoned.”

“Okay,” Cesar nods, already kicking off his current pair of pants to pull on the ones Oscar just gave him. “Okay.”

Oscar’s only watching a little bit as Cesar undresses, his eyes drawn to the way Cesar’s stomach flexes and how long his torso is when he draws his old shirt up over his half-dried hair. It’s once the black shirt is pulled down over Cesar’s head that he starts complaining.

“How does this even fit you?” Cesar yanks at the hem of the shirt, which just so happens to be refusing to go any lower than where it rests above his hipbones. A strip of light brown skin peeks underneath the material before disappearing under the elastic band of his briefs followed by the top of his jeans.

“It’s not my fault that you still have a kid’s body,” Oscar snorts, reaching forward to knock Cesar’s hands away from his navel. “It’s fine. It’s all part of the look. Put on the grey shirt now.”

Cesar grumbles something under his breath but shoves his arms through the holes of the shirt nonetheless, rolling the cuffs up to his elbows. He’s always obedient for Oscar. The older man skims his eyes up and down Cesar’s young body, a small coil of heat curling in his cheeks as he realizes just how much Cesar has grown up lately.

The kid looks good. Yeah, he’s slouching like the Hunchback of Notre something and yeah, he has hair going in three different directions, but… he looks good.

“She’s gonna eat you up,” Oscar says and shakes his head, his fingers moving forward on their own accord to slide into his brother’s hair. The knot in his stomach loosens as he feels the strands slipping against his palm. “Now get to the bathroom.” Oscar pulls a little at Cesar’s hair to get him to start moving. Cesar answers with a noise in the back of his throat and ducks away from Oscar’s hand.

It takes about five minutes, but with just a bit of hair gel and a wet comb, Oscar manages to tame Cesar’s hair. Cesar’s unusually quiet the whole time Oscar works and Oscar brushes it off as him just a bit drunk.

It isn’t until Oscar announces that he’s done as he passes the comb through Cesar’s hair one final time that he figures out something is off, because Cesar’s reached up and put his hand on top of Oscar’s to keep it where it is against his scalp. From where he is standing behind Cesar, Oscar moves his eyes to the mirror to lock gazes with his brother, who is looking at him with equal intensity and just a hint of fear.

“ _Mano_?” Oscar’s question is whisked away in the air as Cesar spins around, putting his back to the stained mirror and broken bathroom sink, both of their hands dropping to their sides.

“Oscar, I need your-” Cesar’s voice rises an octave at the end of his sentence and he clears his throat with a fist to his mouth, looking away before finishing. “I need your help.”

“What’ve I been doing for the past twenty minutes, you drunk shit?” Oscar scoffs, reaching around Cesar to drop the comb onto the counter before standing up straight again. “What’s left? Surely you don’t want me to help you put on cologne? I thought you could handle that one on your own.”

“Oscar…” Cesar sounds exasperated and strained, his eyes digging into Oscar’s imploringly enough that a ripple of electricity slips down Oscar’s spine.

“What?” Oscar tries to make his tone irritated but it ends up coming out all soft and shit. The fuck? How did that happen?

“It’s just-” Oscar watches Cesar’s throat work as he swallows, looking up in time to catch Cesar’s eyes tracing the outline of Oscar’s mouth before they meet his stare. That coil of flames is back and writhing in the pit of Oscar’s stomach, fingers of heat reaching up into his chest to wrap around his heart, which is suddenly pounding. “I haven’t-I’ve never-” and Cesar’s eyes are back on Oscar’s fucking lips again.

“Never…?” Oscar quirks his eyebrows up a bit with his question because he thinks he knows what Cesar is about to say and he really fucking hopes he’s wrong, because if he isn’t wrong-

“I’ve never kissed anyone!” Cesar bursts out, his hands reaching back for the counter of the sink behind him, knuckles whitening with the tightness of his grip.

“What?” Oscar says. “You’re seventeen. What do you mean you’ve never kissed anyone?”

“Thanks, that really makes me feel better…” Cesar’s face is flushed with his embarrassment, and fuck, those better not be tears swimming in Cesar’s pretty eyes or Oscar is gonna lose it.

“I’m sorry,” Oscar backpedals, “Look… You’re a good-looking kid.”

Cesar’s face contorts for a moment before landing on a confused expression.

Oscar rushes on. “You’re not an ugly motherfucker, okay? So I just assumed you’d at least made it to third base or something.”

“Yeah, well, I haven’t,” Cesar looks down at his feet, clearing his throat twice. “I mean, I’ve kissed girls before, I just haven’t… kissed girls before.”

“So you’ve done a peck on the lips here and there but nothing more, is what you’re saying?” Oscar clarifies, still a little shell-shocked that his little brother is a virgin.

Cesar’s head snaps up and he glares at Oscar hard enough to raise goosebumps on his arms. “Yes. How many times do I have to say it?”

“Hey!” Oscar barks. “Excuse me for being surprised that my baby brother hasn’t gone any farther with a woman than giving her a goodnight kiss.”

“I’m not a baby…” Cesar mumbles slowly, ducking his head to watch his toe dig into the fluffy mat they are standing on.

By now, Cesar’s words have finally taken root in Oscar’s brain, the tendrils of thought following the pathways with all those neurons firing and shit until Oscar realizes exactly what Cesar was asking help with. It feels like someone has just elbowed him in the gut, the air in his lungs whistling out of his mouth as Oscar stares at his little brother.

“You want me to help teach you how to kiss?” The question is out before Oscar even knew he was considering saying it at all, and Cesar’s head lifts very, very slowly. The look on his face is answer enough.

Oscar’s stepping back again, his hands patting at his hips to find front pockets to shove his fingers into, but he’s in his underwear, dammit, why didn’t he put some fucking pants on?

“What the fucking hell, man. That’s-You want me to? I’m your fucking brother!”

“Do I look like I’m stupid? I know you’re my brother. You’re also the one who cycles through the most women per hour at this neighborhood, so… forgive me for thinking you may actually know how to kiss someone…”

A bolt of indignation zings through Oscar’s chest and he stops moving backwards. It’s pure ego that leads him forward again, stepping into Cesar’s space to shove his pointer finger into Cesar’s right pec.

“You think I don’t fucking know how?”

“It’s okay if you don’t,” Cesar shrugs.

“Hey,” Oscar growls, showing his teeth aggressively, his finger hooking into the black material of Cesar’s shirt, which is really Oscar’s shirt, and twisting it so it gathers into Oscar’s fist. “You’re a fucking virgin boy, who’s _pedo_ as fuck with cheap ass beer, talking random shit and asking for a fucking _madrazo en el chingado hocico_...”

“I’m not if you haven’t done anything in the first place.”

Okay. So that’s how the drunk little shit wants to play it.

“You’re an annoying piece of shit…,” Oscar yanks his little brother until their noses are brushing. Oscar is close enough to Cesar’s face that he could count every single long, black eyelash framing Cesar’s wide, wide eyes. Close enough that he can smell the beer from his brother’s lips. He can feel Cesar’s heart thrumming against his knuckles, even smell the sweat of his teenager body. “Pay attention, _puto_ , ‘cause I’m only doing this once.”

Oscar can sense that Cesar is building up to some kind of smart-ass remark so before he can really think about it too much, Oscar presses up, tilts his face and seals his lips against Cesar’s.

It’s weird. It’s really fucking weird. Oscar’s only ever kissed girls with their soft, curvy bodies and plump lips and small little hands that press against his broad chest. This is a boy. This is a boy who also happens to be Oscar’s _hermanito_. Oscar’s hand is brushing the flat, hard expanse of Cesar’s chest, Oscar’s lips are fused to the thinner lines of Cesar’s mouth and it’s all just wrong. He’s freezing up, unable to do anything else except stand there like an idiot who has forgotten how to kiss.

After a moment, Cesar pulls away. His eyes are shining and he blinks at Oscar, regarding him silently. Oscar inches away, loosening the hand that is tangled in Cesar’s shirt. What the fuck was that?

“Is that it?” Cesar asks slowly with an arched brow, blinking repeatedly. “Because I bet Ruby or Jamal probably could have taught me more than that...”

It's Cesar's words that makes the switch inside Oscar flip on. Oscar’s ego roars to life inside his chest and takes over his body, reaching through his limbs to fasten his palms onto Cesar’s hipbones and push him backwards into the countertop. Oscar’s mouth follows seconds after, lifting up to smash into Cesar’s.

A cry is muffled between their lips, but that twisting heat in Oscar’s stomach flares and encourages him, so Oscar lets his tongue flick out and slip against the seam of Cesar’s lips and, shit, they part for him immediately, welcoming him into the wet cave of Cesar’s mouth. Oscar lines his body up with Cesar’s as he dives in, his tongue pushing, pressing, seeking out everything he can to get a taste of his drunk brother. He’s dimly aware that Cesar’s hands are resting hesitantly on Oscar’s shoulders, so he guides one to his neck and the other down to the small of his back. Cesar seems to understand and Oscar makes a small noise of approval when he feels the pressure on his back pulling him closer.

It’s just an exercise. Something that teenage boys want to experiment at some point. And they end up experimenting with other confused boys, so why not make this happen in a safe place? With someone safe? These are the thoughts Oscar has to have running through his head to keep him from having some sort of mental break.

When Cesar pushes forward too fast and knocks their teeth together, Oscar brings his hands to Cesar’s cheeks and gently forces Cesar’s face away so he can breathe out for Cesar to take it slower, to just enjoy it. The second time Cesar captures his lips is better. Softer. A lot better.

When both of them have their mouths open and Cesar’s tongue is dancing in an indiscernible pattern between gasps, Oscar stops him and demonstrates how to glide it along your partner’s just so, how to let them tangle together smooth and slow and slick. Cesar’s a quick learner.

By now, they can both feel each other’s erections, Oscar is sure of it. But he pushes back the alarming thought of his brother’s uncut dick throbbing inside his pants.

When Cesar accidentally bites Oscar’s lip, Oscar tells him it’s okay and demonstrates how to soothe it by sucking Cesar’s bottom lip into his mouth and dragging his tongue across it. Any remaining pain that may have been leftover from Cesar’s nip is gone the moment Cesar mimics Oscar’s actions on his lip. They have to stop to breathe afterwards and Oscar finds Cesar’s eyes wide open and staring down at him, the pools of brown brimming with an emotion Oscar doesn't understand. He uses the pads of his thumbs to bring Cesar’s eyelids down.

The next time Cesar moves in, Oscar can sense the shift. Cesar’s hands are more sure, one resting on Oscar’s neck tattoo with his thumb tucked under Oscar’s chin to tilt his head just the way Cesar wants and the other is rucking up Oscar’s shirt just above his right hip, palm hot against his skin. Whatever is left of Oscar’s rational thought is swirling down the drain in the back of his mind because right now, everything just feels right.

The way that Cesar breaths to let out a small gasp before changing the angles of both of their heads to dive right back into Oscar’s mouth, the way that Cesar has shifted to the side so he can bring his thigh forward to press against Oscar’s boner, it’s all falling into place like they’ve been doing this for years.

That heat that has been building inside Oscar is swirling happily, like every push of Cesar’s fingers, every noise Cesar makes, every shift of Cesar’s body against Oscar’s all adds to the kindling, feeding the flame.

Logically, a line should be drawn somewhere so that the lesson doesn’t become anything more than just that.

Realistically, there’s no chance in hell that Oscar is going to be able to stop kissing his horny brother until they’ve fused into one being.

Everything is a rush and it feels amazing. Cesar’s hand has slipped down to palm the curve of Oscar’s ass, bringing him that much tighter against Cesar’s body. Oscar’s hands had wound themselves into Cesar’s drying hair long ago, mussing up the look Oscar had so carefully styled minutes before.

Oscar’s world tilts backwards for a moment, forcing a protesting noise from his throat as Cesar bends forward to wrap his arms around Oscar’s thighs before he spins on the spot and drops Oscar gracelessly on the lip of the counter. Oscar tightens his grip in Cesar’s hair to attempt to keep his balance, biting Cesar’s lip on accident as he starts to slip down into the bowl of the sink. Cesar drags Oscar forward so he is molded to the front of Cesar’s body and no longer in danger of getting his ass wet from the water in the ceramic basin.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Oscar manages to pant out before Cesar leans in eagerly, and kisses away any further words he may have considered saying.

The concept of time disappears along with Oscar’s sense of reality. The only thing that exists in his world are Cesar’s fingers digging into his thighs and Cesar’s mouth sucking on Oscar’s bottom lip again. Oscar’s entire world is filled with Cesar, is overwhelmed by Cesar, his entire world is Cesar. Just like it’s always been. Just like it always will be.

It’s his little brother that ends the moment, pulling away with a soft sigh that punches lightly at Oscar’s heart. Cesar ducks in and kisses Oscar with a closed mouth once, twice, three times. As gentle as the look in his eyes once Oscar finds strength enough to open his own.

“Guess I should finish getting ready for that date,” Cesar whispers, only an inch away. Oscar keeps his gaze on Cesar’s lips, running the pad of his forefinger over them because he can’t help but be fascinated at how puffy and red and completely inviting they look. He can lean forward, just a bit, and get them back on his if Cesar stays still. But Cesar doesn’t; he steps backwards and helps bring Oscar down off the sink to stand on his own two legs, which are embarrassingly close to giving out.

“Yeah,” Oscar’s voice cracks from lack of use and he clears his throat, rubbing at his jaw as he turns to look out the doorway. Cesar’s gaze is too intense to hold. “Yeah, you probably should.”

Now that the buzz and the thrill of it has all begun to fade, panic is setting in, spiking up Oscar’s arms to snare his heart with prickling fear. Fuck. _Fuck_. He just made out with his _little brother_.

Pushing Cesar to the side so he can get out of the fucking bathroom, Oscar struggles to draw air into his lungs as he strides into the kitchen and lays his forehead on the island, arms circling around his head. Oscar just made out with his little brother and he was fucking turned on by it, the guilty arousal still singing high and fresh in his blood. Oscar’s stomach stutters, as if it’s unsure whether to try to force the contents of Oscar’s dinner up his throat or do a dance of sick, twisted happiness.

No. No, Cesar had asked for help. Cesar wanted that, he wanted Oscar’s tongue in his mouth to teach him what to do for his date tonight. Standing up straight, Oscar mechanically opens the fridge and pulls out a beer. His fingers are shaking too much to twist the cap off. Swearing, Oscar yanks open one of the drawers and fishes out the bottle opener, fumbling for a moment before he can pop the small metal circle off his beer. After three large gulps, Oscar feels better. He shouldn’t be freaking out. So what if he got turned on by that? It’s just his body’s natural reaction. Pure animalistic instinct. It has nothing to do with Cesar. Absolutely nothing.

“Oscar?”

Oscar closes his eyes tightly for a beat, takes a breath and turns, opening them again to see Cesar with carefully styled hair once again, all traces of where Oscar’s fingers had dug into them gone with a swipe of a comb. His little brother is standing near the door, hands shoved deep in his pockets as he waits. The bright red spots that once sat high on his cheekbones are fading now, only two light pink marks signaling that anything out of the ordinary had ever happened.

“You ready to go?” Oscar asks, taking a quick final sip of his beer before setting it down on the counter. Get your shit together.

“Um, yeah.” Cesar is gnawing on his bottom lip, looking nervous. Oscar’s eyes flash down to watch as Cesar’s two front teeth peek out to reach over the full curve of his lip. The sight makes the shimmering heat in Oscar’s stomach flare and crave and want to be the one biting that mouth. “Look,” Cesar continues, bringing Oscar’s stare up to meet Cesar’s eyes. “I-I can walk, Oscar, it’s fine. You don’t have to drive me, really…”

“Shut up.” Good, that’s good. That’s normal. That’s what Oscar would say if this was a normal situation. Which it is. Normal. “I’ve already seen the girl. Why are you pushing this so hard? I’m driving you to her house. What’s the big deal?”

Cesar presses his mouth into a tight line and looks at the front door instead of Oscar before replying, “Forget it.”

“Okay,” Oscar nods, starting towards the door before looking down and stopping in his tracks. “I’m gonna put some pants on. Go wait in the car.”

Cesar does as Oscar says, but not without an irritated huff. Oscar books it into the room, kicking shirts out of the way until he can find a pair of his own jeans to yank up his legs and over his fast fading erection. Yeah, he really needs to pretend this never happened. Steeling himself, Oscar goes back through the living room, grabs his keys and locks the door on his way out.


	3. It Was Only A Kiss...

Cesar is sulking in the front seat when Oscar slides in. Since he doesn’t seem keen to spill whatever his issue is, Oscar ignores it and cranks the volume up so the option of discussing anything, like what just happened in the bathroom, is completely erased. Oscar reverses until he’s clear to pull out onto the road.

Cesar doesn’t speak except to give directions and, of course, when he does tell Oscar where to go, he has to be a little bitch and whip the volume dial down so the music is barely a murmur. By the time Oscar pulls onto the gravel, they both are bristling with the weird wiry tension thrumming between them.

Oscar taps his fingers aggressively on the wheel, his eyes boring straight through the windshield as he waits for Cesar to get angry. But Cesar’s just sitting there, and Jesus, is he wearing Oscar’s cologne? Unable to stop himself, Oscar turns and stares at his brother incredulously. Cesar meets his gaze evenly.

“I borrowed some of your cologne.” Cesar states like he can read Oscar’s mind. Fuck, he probably can. Either that or Oscar is an open book.

Oscar grunts his acknowledgement, not trusting his voice because it may do something stupid like ask Cesar if Oscar can shove his tongue down his throat again.

Shaking his head, Cesar breaks their heavy eye contact, twisting to place his fingers on the handle of the door. He’s moving, finally going to get out of the car so Oscar can make his way back to the house and drown himself in alcohol to wash this entire night down the drain with the rest of his poor life choices. When Cesar kisses Oscar, it’s quick and it’s soft, just a simple push of lip against lip with the slightest of parts before it’s over. After Oscar has managed to force his eyes open, he finds Cesar hovering just a few inches away, his wide, bright eyes dancing between both of Oscar’s. Oscar has forgotten how to breathe.

“Thanks for the lesson.” Cesar whispers, his gaze moving over Oscar’s face like a caress. Then he’s gone, a cool, brisk wave of night air sweeping into the car as Cesar shuts the door behind him.

Oscar is frozen in shock as he watches his brother’s figure trek up the path to the front door, his body outlined by the porch light as he waits for the door to open. A guy is the one who greets Cesar. Oscar watches as his brother's head turns over his shoulder, just once, to stare at where Oscar is parked. That’s about all he can take. Not even checking his mirrors, Oscar pulls back onto the road with a skid, the back wheels of the car kicking up dirt and rocks behind him as he roars onto the black asphalt. He doesn’t let himself look back.

Oscar is very, very drunk by the time Cesar gets home. He’s lounging on the couch, the TV blaring some sort of nonsense that Oscar lost track of after his eighth beer. He hears the door open before he sees it. Gathering himself up onto his elbows, Oscar squints over his feet to find Cesar’s back crossing the threshold as he waves to someone Oscar can’t see.

Cesar turns and shuts the door, kicking off his shoes before looking up.

It’s funny how the only way he can know what Cesar looks like after a vigorous make out session is because they had one just a few hours before, but for some reason, it knees Oscar in the gut to see Cesar’s lips pink and puffy and newly abused and know that it wasn’t because of him. That twisting, green finger of envy is carving its nail down the back of Oscar’s brain to let ugly, polluted thoughts pour into his head and down his spine, making Oscar curl forward and suck in wind to try and come back to himself.

Okay. So Oscar’s jealous. Oscar’s jealous that someone else kissed his _hermanito_ , that someone else had their hands on his face and in his hair, and that it wasn’t him.

But Cesar doesn’t need to know that. He doesn’t need to know about the dirty feelings that are soaking Oscar’s very bones with self-loathing and disgust, or how he wants to pollute his little brother even further with his tongue and his hands and his body.

“Whowasthat?” Oscar slurs, frowning as the words come out in one long mess of a sentence. He's drunker than he realized.

Cesar’s eyes are reproaching as they bounce around the collection of empty beer bottles littering the floor next to the couch, but they find Oscar’s after a moment and hold his gaze.

“Monse’s dad. He offered to drop me off afterwards.”

Oscar nods sagely, squinting down to watch his socked toes wiggle where they are propped up on the other arm of the couch.

“Did, uh-“ Oscar clears his throat and lifts his head, his eyes sluggishly moving up the line of his brother’s body, taking in the long length of his legs and the strip of skin peeking out from under his shirt and the way that the grey collar of his second shirt is half turned up on one side. Oscar knows he’s gonna hate himself even more if he finishes this sentence. He does it anyway. “Did she like it?” Oscar knows that Cesar will understand what he’s asking.

Cesar’s face spasms with an emotion that disappears before Oscar can even think of deciphering it, instead smoothing out into a carefully neutral expression.

“Yeah,” he replies, shifting his weight onto his other foot as he shoves his hands in his back pockets. “Loved it.”

The hot, jealous hand inside Oscar’s hollow cave of a chest grips his stomach tight and twists up.

“Good,” Oscar growls, swinging his legs over the side of the couch and around the mess of empties so he can stand up. “Glad I could be of service.”

“Oscar-”

He waves Cesar’s plea away, slowly making his way to the bathroom. No way he can begin to fathom sleeping in the same room as his brother. Not tonight.

“Tell me more in the morning so I can actually remember it,” Oscar tries to say in a mocking way, but his voice is brittle and on the edge of shaking. He knows he hasn’t convinced Cesar because he hasn’t even convinced himself.

As he passes Cesar on the way into the hall, Oscar’s eyes catch on the tag sticking out from the back of Cesar’s shirt, completely visible due to it being inside out. The vice around his heart constricts hard enough to hurt.

“Rookie mistake.” Oscar smiles tightly and reaches forward to pull at the small cloth square.

Cesar pales, his wide eyes growing even bigger as his fingers fumble against the back of his shirt to find the tag that exposed him.

Fighting back the bile that is burning up his throat, Oscar turns and forces himself to walk faster until he passes through the threshold of the bathroom. Closing the door, Oscar goes and sits heavily inside of the tub with his head in his hands, trying to forget that he ever saw that Cesar’s shirt was inside out because if he thinks about it, then that means he has to think about fingers that aren’t his pushing the material off of Cesar’s shoulders and Oscar really can’t handle that right now.

Oscar’s done a lot of stupid shit in his life. But this? This takes the cake. How delusional can he really be? How could he have let himself leap so blindly over the clearly taboo line between the two of them with no thought as to what may result once his feet touched back down to earth? It’s not like Oscar knew he was going to want this again once it was done. How could he have known? But the fact of the matter is that he does. He wants it again, wants it so badly that his entire body aches. Every inch of Oscar’s being is buzzing and begging for him to break out of his self-enforced solitary confinement, to climb into Cesar's bed next to his brother and drape himself over the boy instead of the sheets they lie on.

Shaking his head, Oscar lets himself fall backwards into the inside of the tub, his eyes open and staring but seeing nothing.

It’s gonna fade, this feeling churning in the pit of his stomach. It has to. This can’t overshadow everything that Cesar and Oscar have going for them. They’ve never been closer, never been able to be so purely open and honest with each other, and that’s important. That’s so fucking important. Oscar’s not open and honest with anybody, but he is trying to be with Cesar, and it’s just not an option to throw that away.

Sleep begins to hedge away Oscar’s panicked stream of consciousness, cutting back the fear that is making his heart beat just a little too fast. It’s going to be okay. Oscar’s faked confidence and bravado for more than half his life. He definitely can handle pretending that that stupid kiss was nothing more than a lesson with Oscar as teacher and Cesar as student. He was just doing his duty as big brother. That’s all. Everything is going to be fine.

And over the next few weeks, it is fine. Oscar growls, Oscar mocks, Oscar helps pick out four more outfits for four more dates, and it’s all fine. Cesar’s still weird about Oscar giving him a ride, which Oscar ignores, and after he gets dropped off two more times by Monse’s dad, Oscar starts insisting that he pick Cesar up instead, much to Cesar’s annoyance.

Then comes the night where everything finally clicks into place.

It’s a Saturday, they have to send a few guys to patrol around the park, and Oscar figures that it’s going to take at least half the day, putting him back home around dinner time, so he gives Cesar a quick call to let him know. Cesar says that it’s fine, that he has homework he can do while Oscar’s away and that dinner will be ready by the time Oscar gets back. Everything’s fine.

The first few hours fly by with Oscar and his boys patrolling and then meeting with the leader of the gang up north. It’s noon by the time they're done, dealers and drug shit can get complicated, but fortunately not this time.

So Oscar catches a break. He slides into the car along with the others, and eases onto the road that will take him back to the house for a well-deserved nap and a nice lunch. On second thought, Oscar pulls into the small pizza restaurant across the mall and buys a few pizzas for the guys and Cesar to eat. The kid’s homework can wait til tomorrow, it’s Saturday. Snagging some chips and an eight-pack of beer from the convenience store across the road, Oscar throws his treasures into the trunk.

But then, Oscar gets confused when he pulls slowly up the driveway outside their house to find another car parked there. Oscar cuts the engine and sits there for a moment, staring hard out his window at the vehicle parked next to his own.

Who the fuck could be here? It looks familiar, the recognition struggling to come to full bloom in Oscar’s head, and the confused murmuring of the other four gang members since the rest of the Santos usually had personal business to attend on Saturday nights, leaving the house alone with the two brothers. Gathering the items from the trunk, and pulling out a gun, Oscar cautiously steps out of the car and gently closes the door behind him.

He tells the boys to wait behind, and with his free hand, Oscar lays his palm on the hood of the stranger’s car. It’s cool, which means it’s been here for at least a couple of hours. Frowning, Oscar turns to stare up at the house. As he moves up to the steps, something inside of him whispers for him to be quiet as he enters, so he pulls the door open just enough for him to squeeze through and not have it squeak to give away his presence. Oscar toes off his boots with only small difficulty and pads forward in his socks to the front door, his hand resting on the knob as he stares at the peeling paint before him.

Moment of truth. Oscar’s heart is beating hard and loud in his ribcage, strong enough to rattle bones. Why is he hesitating? It’s his fucking house. He deserves to know who is here with Cesar.

The thought of his brother being alone with someone Oscar doesn’t know pushes a freezing icicle of fear into Oscar’s chest and the next thing he knows, Oscar is in the house, the door clicking softly shut behind him.

Oscar can hear noises coming from down the hall to his left. Curiosity leads him to the edge of the open doorway leading into the room that Cesar and Oscar share, fear makes him press his back flat along the wall just outside it. Low murmurs manage to breach the resounding thumps of his blood pumping in Oscar’s ears, so at least Oscar knows that Cesar isn’t dead. They’re just talking or something.

It just takes a second, a single moment suspended in time, for Oscar to muster up the courage to take a step forward and turn to look into the bedroom. It’s a second that he’s going to regret.

Cesar’s there, in the room. He’s alive, which is a plus. But he is pinning a naked Monse to Oscar’s bed. A naked Monse that is spreading her legs around his baby brother’s round ass so she can shift forward between them and get that much closer to Cesar’s own naked body.

It hurts somehow, watching Cesar’s hands grasp the face of Monse and pull her up to press their lips together in a tight line. Oscar has the side view of the entire interaction, his feet apparently growing roots without his knowledge. He can hear Monse mewling and gasping as his baby brother works his strong hips down into hers, his low voice encouraging Monse in a rough tone.

Despite every other action occurring on the bed, Oscar’s eyes keep getting pulled up to where they’re kissing. That’s when Oscar’s stomach turns to shreds because he’s watching Cesar suck this girl’s bottom lip into his mouth, like Oscar had shown him how to, and he’s working his tongue in the girl’s mouth like a pro, like Oscar had shown him how to, and it’s all with a girl, and not with Oscar.

Shouldn’t he be happy for his brother? Shouldn’t he be bursting with pride, and smile to himself, thinking about how much he is going to tease Cesar later? Making jokes along with the other boys about wet pussies, and pregnant girls? And yet, his body tenses up. Oscar’s lungs shake as they seize up and cut off his supply of oxygen because Cesar is turning and looking, and his eyes are on Oscar’s, and the look of complete and utter terror pouring from his little brother’s shimmering eyes is enough to make Oscar lower his gun, turn around and walk outside.

Oscar’s out the front door and stumbling down the porch steps in his socks before he can even register that he’s moving at all. Blinded by the sudden onslaught of tears flooding his vision, Oscar runs head on into the front grill of the car, ignoring the questions coming from the other Santos, bending in half over the hood from the force of his hit before he heaves in a gasp and pushes off the still-warm metal to grab the driver’s side door handle.

Cesar is there somewhere in the background shouting his name, but his voice is muffled once Oscar is in the car and slamming the door shut, the walls of leather and metal and glass blanketing Oscar in a temporary silence before Cesar is at the passenger side window, slamming his hand on the glass. Oscar is turning the key in the ignition before he realizes too late that he hasn’t locked the doors and as his fingers scrabble to shove the lock down on Cesar’s door, Cesar rips it open and leans in. Oscar retreats immediately, shying back to the driver’s side to throw the car in reverse and hover his foot on the gas.

“Get the fuck out, _mano_.” Oscar says hoarsely. “We’ll talk later about fucking girls on my bed...” He’s too scared to even try to gun the car backwards with Cesar hanging off the door because the only thing worse than the situation Oscar just walked in on is one where Cesar gets hurt because of him.

“Oscar, please,” Cesar begs, one hand stretching forward, seeking Oscar’s arm and the solace that Oscar might calm down if he can just get his fingers on Oscar’s skin. Hurt flickers across Cesar’s already tear-streaked face and he curls his hand back to clutch at the front of his shirt, right over his heart. “Okay.” Cesar chokes out and proceeds to throw his body into the passenger seat, the door shutting hard enough behind him to rock the car back and forth for a few sways. “I’m not leaving until you hear me out.”

“You left that leg-spreading slut on my bed waiting for your dick, and open pussies get dry you know? Get out.”

“No, Oscar!” Cesar yells, slapping his palm hard on the dashboard, his thick eyebrows frowning in desperation. “Not until you listen to me…”

* * *

So here Oscar is, in the present, wishing with every bone in his body that he had said no when Cesar had asked him for help on that godforsaken night. If he had, they wouldn't be here right now, teetering on the edge of a cliff and toeing the point of no return. Because there is no going back now. There's no going back for either of them.

"You and Monse are using condoms, right?"

Oscar is staring sightlessly through the windshield at the surrounding trees and bushes. He had started the car, and had drove them across the city until they had reached the limit.

Now, they were in the middle of nowhere, parked beneath a big tree in a place Oscar knew for sure served as an execution spot for gangs from time to time. Monse had left the house five minutes later, looking disheveled and a little nervous, with Cesar’s arm around her, taking her to her dad’s car, mumbling apologies, as the Santos were inside shoving pizza slices down their throats. Everything was ok. He hears Cesar sigh and shift back into his seat.

"Yeah, yes, of course we-..."

"You both seemed to enjoy that."

Cesar hesitates.

"Yes."

"So everything is ok. Can we get back, now? I have to go meet someone..."

"Oscar, no. That's not fair." Cesar protests, turning and tucking one leg under his body so he can face Oscar.

"I—I know why this-- why this is going on, ok? ," Cesar is reaching forward again, his fingers lighting softly on Oscar's forearm. Oscar shivers as goosebumps break out from where Cesar's hand touches his skin. "I'm sorry for, for doing that on your bed... She threw herself at me, okay? And, and I promise, it was just the first time, you have to believe me. We were supposed to do homework together, but Jamal and Ruby- they didn’t show up. I'm sorry-"

Oscar slowly turns his head to look at Cesar, his brow creasing as his eyes danced between both of Cesar's which are brimming with tears.

"Are you apologizing for fucking a girl? Shit, at your age I had already done at least two foursomes with random freshman girls in the school’s bathrooms..." Oscar ignores the way his growl cracks. "Why couldn't you just tell you wanted to fuck-? "

Cesar's face crumples and tears break through the frame of his eyelashes to slip down his cheeks.

"Stop- Please stop avoiding the topic, Oscar… You- you aren’t mad about that… We both know that."

"What the fuck are you talking about?” Oscar knocks Cesar's hand off his forearm because all of his nerves are singing and it hurts to have Cesar touch him, and he can't concentrate.

"We don’t talk about that night!" The cry that breaks from Cesar's lips is followed by a choked sob. His eyes wide and streaming with tears and it swallows all the air out of Oscar's lungs. "Because I don’t want you to look at me like I'm some kind of freak!"

Oscar finally understands what the word "heartbroken" means because his has shattered completely into dust. His hands are moving, petting down Cesar's trembling arms, reaching around his back to gather him against Oscar's chest because, no, there's no way Cesar could ever think that him being who he is would make Oscar love him any less.

"Fuck no," Oscar's whispering in Cesar's hair just above his ear, one hand clamped on the back of his little brother's head to keep Cesar nestled in the crook of Oscar's neck. "I could never hate you, you little shit..."

Another sob wracks Cesar's body and his hands scrabble at Oscar's chest, digging into the front of his t-shirt like he's drowning and the only way he can stay afloat is by holding onto his brother. Oscar just cradles Cesar to his body, rocking them gently from side to side as he combs his fingers through Cesar's hair.

Once Cesar has calmed down enough to sit up, Oscar uses the hem of his shirt to wipe away the tears from underneath Cesar's reddened eyes.

"Are you hearing me?" Oscar prompts, capturing Cesar's face between his palms. His voice is quiet but commanding so that Cesar lifts his gaze to meet Oscar's. "I'm never gonna hate you, _hermanito_. Never. Especially not because of who you like or don’t like…"

"You're not-" Cesar hiccups a little and a warm blanket of fondness wraps around Oscar's heart as he stares at his little brother in his hands, looking so soft and vulnerable and child-like. "You're not freaked out that I… kissed you?"

"Fuck no," Oscar shakes his head for emphasis, his fingers tightening on Cesar's cheekbones. "It doesn't change the fact that you're a… A _pendejo que le gusta chingar un buen con sus mamadas_ … _no_?"

Cesar turns his head from side to side in Oscar's palms, silently saying no.

" _Exacto_." Oscar says, his voice getting rough from the tears that are threatening to break free. He pulls Cesar forward into another hug, his arms tightening across the line of his brother's shoulders. "I'm always gonna be here for you, _mano_. I'll support you no matter what. You gotta know that."

"I do," Cesar's answer is muffled into the crook of Oscar's shoulder. "I do."

"Okay." Oscar leans back again and lets out a big sigh. Cesar stays near, his eyes on his fingers that are running up and down the inch or so of leather that separates the two of them. Oscar takes a second and mulls over the idea of seeing Cesar holding hands with a girl, sharing a plate of fries with a girl, cuddling under the sheets with a girl, and in each scenario that comes to mind, it's him. He's holding Cesar's hand and eating fries and curling around Cesar's back. Christ, he is fucked up. Pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes, Oscar clears his throat and tries to distract himself by asking Cesar questions.

"Isn't she a bit annoying though? I’ve heard her talk…"

"She’s not that bad..." Cesar's voice is quiet and close to Oscar's ear.

Oscar looks at Cesar from the corner of his eye.

"So the answer is yes, then."

Cesar flushes but holds Oscar's stare defiantly, some hidden message brewing in the depths of his pupils that Oscar can't quite make out. God, sometimes this kid confuses the shit out of him.

Cesar makes some kind of noise in the back of his throat that forces Oscar's head to turn and look at him. Cesar is close. Really close. And his fingers are tangling in Oscar's necklace again, sliding down to encompass the cross.

"Don't say that." Cesar says, a whisper that sends chills slithering down Oscar's spine. He's pulling on the cross, bringing Oscar to him like a dog on a leash. Air is struggling to climb back into Oscar's lungs and he can't stop staring at the shape of Cesar's mouth which is close, so close. The twine is digging into the back of Oscar's neck and he thinks that it's one of the best things he's ever felt in his life because it's leading him right to Cesar, right to a place he's always considered home.

The moment is shattered by a high-pitched ring trilling from Oscar's back pocket. They both start and Oscar swears, fumbling to get his phone out from the confines of his jeans before pressing it to his ear and barking out an irritated "What?"

Cesar still hovers inches away, his chest rising and falling rapidly as his eyes dart over the planes of Oscar's face.

"Sorry boss, we were just finished with the rounds here at the border." A rough voice answers in Oscar's ear. “Nothing unusual.”

"Bad timing, Ernesto." He growls back as he opens the door and gets off the car.

"Should we go check the park too for any new dealers causing trouble?” The man asks.

Oscar turns his back on his brother, rubbing a hand across his forehead as he replies.

"No, take the night off, the new boys can handle selling and patrolling the park at night at the same time.”

"Ok," Ernesto says. "Thanks boss, we’ll see you in the morning.”

"Fine.”

"New boys?" Cesar ventures from behind Oscar.

"Yeah. New kids joining the Santos.” Oscar steels himself and tucks the phone away. The feeling of getting caught while doing something dirty is still itching underneath Oscar's skin.

"Oscar, I-" Cesar starts to say but Oscar's already inside the car, starting the engine.

"Let's go."

* * *

When they get to the house, Oscar gets off the car first. After hesitating for just a moment, Cesar follows, his face darkened by a mask of poorly hidden frustration. The older brother ignores it and lets himself into the house. Oscar drags his feet as he gets ready for bed, trying to draw out the inevitable after seeing Cesar leap into the bed and settle in immediately.

The big brother side of Oscar is battling the irrational side of Oscar; one is demanding that Oscar just goes to sleep, and forge about everything else, while the other is coaxing Oscar to get in Cesar’s bed, and face his brother, to reach forward and fist his hand in his brother’s shirt and touch him in every conceivable way just to be able to swallow Cesar’s noises with his tongue.

Oscar settles for going to sleep.

He shifts onto his back, tucks both arms underneath his pillow and his head, and closes his eyes. Oscar is focusing all of his energy on forcing his lungs to slowly pull air in and slowly push air out, because if he didn’t, then he would be distracted by the sound of Cesar’s own breathing.

“Oscar.” It’s a faint murmur that tickles Oscar’s ear and his head twitches a little at the sensation, but he otherwise does not respond. Cesar is more insistent this time. “Oscar.”

Oscar pretends that he’s deaf.

When Cesar tries to get his attention the third time, it works, mainly because it consists of Cesar quickly getting in bed with him, and reaching down for Oscar's crotch tightly in the palm of his hand. Oscar sucks in a wild gasp and his arms fly up from behind his head to grab Cesar's forearm.

"What the fuck-" Oscar chokes out in a low hiss, his fingers digging into muscle as he tries to shove Cesar away because all the blood that first shot up to color Oscar's cheeks is now moving south and this is bad, this is really bad.

Cesar allows Oscar to push his hand away, but the look in his eyes tells Oscar that this is far from over. Once Cesar's arm is back in his body space, Oscar lets his own hand reach up and grab at his thumping heart. This fucking kid is going to send him into cardiac arrest.

"You gonna listen to me now?" Cesar mutters as he props himself up on his elbow again, his eyes looking black in the darkness of the room.

“Are you insane?” Oscar growls back as quietly as he can. “Go to sleep, _puto_.”

“You just don’t want to talk to me…”

Well, yeah.

“Go to sleep.” Oscar says again as he turns onto his side, giving Cesar a view of his back. What even is there to say?

Oscar thinks that Cesar has received the message loud and clear when he hears Cesar settling back down on his own bed. There’s a lull as Oscar remains tense, expecting something to happen. After a few minutes, nothing does, so Oscar lets out a long, low breath and relaxes his muscles. He sinks into the mattress, his eyelids drooping shut as he welcomes the heat blanketing him. Then the heat shifts and Oscar is wide awake as Cesar slides the front line of his body up against Oscar’s back and legs.

Oscar begins to turn, his lips parting to start complaining when Cesar’s mouth envelops them in a searing kiss, and every thought that Oscar currently had stewing in his head melts and pours down his spine. Cesar’s fingers lift and trace Oscar’s jaw until they reach his chin.

That’s when Cesar pulls away, just an inch away so he’s panting into Oscar’s face, Oscar’s heart is about to give out, and pushes his thumb up to drag along his bottom lip which is slick with his spit. All Oscar can do is stare at his brother wordlessly, his eyes wide as they rake over Cesar’s hair, and face, and lips.

Pressing up tighter against Oscar’s back, Cesar buries his face into Oscar’s neck and moves the hand currently in Oscar’s mouth down the front of his brother’s chest to his stomach. It doesn’t take much for Cesar to arrange Oscar just how he wants him, getting Oscar’s ass tight against his crotch, and his back seamlessly fused to Cesar’s chest. At this point, all Oscar can do is focus on breathing in and out.

When Cesar bites down on the soft spot beneath Oscar’s neck tattoo, Oscar convulses, his entire body shaking from the shock that Cesar just dug his teeth into his skin. It doesn’t even begin to compare to what it feels like when Cesar does it again, and this time, accompanies it with a roll of his hips.

Oscar has been able to feel Cesar’s dick nudging up into the crack of his ass through their underwear, but he simply chose to ignore it in favor of pretending that this wasn’t really happening. He can’t ignore it anymore when Cesar nudges his thigh in between both of Oscar’s, his leg tensing and rising up to brush at Oscar’s growing erection.

Oscar whimpers and buries his face into his pillow, his fingers clawing into the fluffy down feathers, heavy pants shuddering from his lips as he tries to get ahold of himself. His eyes shoot open just as Cesar grinds into him again, the molten lava that is bubbling and building in Oscar’s boner starting to rise up to a concerning level.

Speech has failed him. Cesar’s touch has stolen his words away, wiping him clean of any possible response. If Cesar was saying what Oscar thinks he's saying, then Oscar's reading the message loud and clear judging by the way Cesar's hand is cupping Oscar's dick through his underwear again.

"Cesar-" Oscar grunts out through gritted teeth, his brother's name the only word in both English and Spanish that he can possibly comprehend.

"I'll stop…" Cesar continues breathlessly, whispering into the shell of Oscar's ear. "If- If you want me to, I'll stop…" Oscar clamps his teeth into his pillow and shakes his head minutely.

Oscar's back arches at the promise hanging from Cesar's lips, his eyes rolling back at the wave of prickling heat that just swept through his entire body.

They didn't speak after that. They were both too busy finding a rhythm of shifting and rolling and grinding that left them both struggling for breath.

So he lets go. He throws his head back to give Cesar a canvas for him to mark up freely. He meets every upward stroke of Cesar's hips with a downwards push of his own. Slips his hand down Cesar's strong forearm and squeezes his fingers around the hand that is working Oscar's dick through the thin layer of cloth that Oscar hates more and more at every passing second.

He can feel Cesar's body start to tremble as he reaches his peak, a choked whimper breaching Cesar's lips where they hover just above his big brother’s ear. Oscar reaches up and winds his fingers in Cesar's sweaty hair. He keeps Cesar where he is and turns his face away from the pillow to catch the edge of Cesar's mouth with his.

"Don't move… I wanna hear you, boy… Wanna hear the noises you make…" Oscar barely even realizes he's whispering until he feels Cesar's body rock forward sharply in response. Another hitching sound breaks across Oscar's skin and it pours gasoline into his bloodstream. He's just waiting for the match to light.

Oscar will never be able to forget the way Cesar's face looks when he comes, with his mouth parted in an oval with catching, hitching breaths stuttering out of it and his eyes, open and staring down into the very core of Oscar's soul. He's never seen anything more beautiful in his life. It's over too fast and it leaves Cesar trembling and jerking with his aftershocks, but apparently he is coherent enough to have his fingers fumble under the waistband of Oscar's briefs. Oscar has to shove his face back into his pillow to muffle a cry of pleasure as Cesar wraps his hand around Oscar's sensitive cock, pulls it out above the band of his underwear, and squeezes.

Cesar's fingers dance up to the foreskin on the hard head where precum has been collecting, and works it down Oscar's shaft until he can pull without any resistance. Oscar's hips buck forward into Cesar's fist and it only takes two quick tugs until Oscar is spilling warm semen into Cesar's palm with shuddering jerks, the match he'd been waiting for finally catching flame and dropping into his veins to send his orgasm exploding through his body.

They both lay there for a long time as they wait for their hearts to slow down and their breathing to return to normal, Cesar with his head nestled in the crook of Oscar's neck and Oscar still buried in his pillow. After Cesar had come down from his high, he had taken off his shirt and used it to wipe off Cesar and his hand before tucking him back into his underwear with the utmost care. It had left Cesar blushing for the next twenty minutes. Never before has he been treated with such love and care.

This was more than just personal. It was intimate. It was special. It was theirs. Whatever this was, whatever it was going to become, and no matter how fucked up it was, it was theirs.

"I love you..." Cesar murmurs into Oscar's ear. Oscar is on his back now and his baby brother is curled against Oscar's side with his arm wrapped around the older man’s shoulders.

Oscar reaches up and tugs hard on Cesar's hair, smiling smugly when he hears a noise of protest.

"I love you more," Oscar growls back, turning his head to look down at his little brother. "I’ve loved you for a longer time than you have loved me…"

Cesar smiles into Oscar's shoulder and lifts to meet his gaze. Cesar’s eyes are brimming with so much love and happiness that it makes Oscar's breath catch in his throat.

Cesar's opening his mouth to make some kind of reply, but Oscar just really needs to kiss his brother, so he does. He kisses Cesar because he can, and because Cesar wants all of this just as badly as Oscar does. He kisses Cesar because this is what started the avalanche that buried them both under the weight of the realization that they can both have what they want: each other, always.

So when Oscar kisses Cesar, he's pressing a promise to his brother's lips. A promise that, no matter what comes their way, no matter what stones or bullets life decides to throw at them, this will remain the same. It's not much, but it's all Oscar has to give.

When Cesar kisses Oscar back, he makes a promise of his own, one that settles a blanket of warmth and everlasting comfort over his bones and his soul.

He promises the same thing right back. And it's enough.

Right now, it's enough.

**THE END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have a suggestion, or just enjoyed the story, please leave a comment/kudos!


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